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Thursday, October 13, 2016

The #HandsOffOurTamariki kōrero last night was both distressing and amazing. So much was said and it’s hard to summarise. But if I had to, what I took away was this:

Children are being removed from their whānau and dying in alarming numbers. Both Māori and Pākehā children have been killed in unsafe environments, but we only hear of the Māori cases. Māori are then blamed for these deaths and the bad decisions of CYF. This blame has allowed Anne Tolley and the state to ignore the local and international reports about how bad CYF are doing, and how they need to work closer with iwi/hapū. It’s allowed them to create a new Ministry, and strip out the clause for children to remain with iwi/hapū. The end goal is to privatise child care (like what is happening in the UK). This will lead to a ‘care pipeline’ where multi-nationals like Serco profit from the removal and incarceration of Māori.

The ultimate cause of this is colonisation, which attacks Māori so that capitalism can make a profit from the harm that stems from colonisation. It’s a vicious cycle of dispossession and exploitation, and one that is ongoing today. Until Māori are truly in control of their lands, lives and power, it is ridiculous to talk of a post-colonial society. If this is the context, then the struggle for the care of tamariki needs to be a struggle about sovereignty as affirmed in te Tiriti o Waitangi, and as it existed on the ground in this land before 1840.

Friday, September 23, 2016

Not many people know that domestic postal censorship existed - yet from the outbreak of the First World War until November 1920, the private letters of mothers, lovers, internees and workmates were subject to a strict censorship. A team of diligent readers in post offices around the country poured over 1.2 million letters. In some cases, people were arrested and deported because of their private thoughts, or mail was used to hunt down objectors hiding in the bush.

Wednesday, September 7, 2016

I am stoked to announce that my paper, 'The Colonial Continuum: Archives, Access and Power' was awarded the 2016 Michael Standish Prize. This award, first offered in 2001, is named in honour of Michael
Standish, architect of the 1957 Archives Act and the first permanent
Chief Archivist of National Archives. The prize recognises an outstanding essay, by a New Zealand archivist
or records manager, dealing with some facet of archives or records
administration, history, theory and/or methodology, and published in a
recognised archives, records management, or other appropriate journal.

Thank you to everyone who contributed to the paper, who helped look over drafts, and those of you who have shared it, promoted it, or quoted it. It really means a lot and I am thankful for all of your support. And of course, thank you to ARANZ for the recognition of my paper and the generosity you showed me at the Wellington Symposium where it was awarded.

Tuesday, June 28, 2016

In this guest post for the Te Papa blog, I ask how historians and others have
measured and defined dissent, sedition and conscientious objection to
military conscription during the Great War. See the original post here.

To foil the demonstration planned for his release, Wellington jailers
freed William Cornish Jnr an hour early. No matter—his comrades threw
two receptions for him at the Socialist Hall instead. The first, held in
August 1911, saw Cornish Jnr receive a medal from the Runanga
Anti-Conscription League for his resistance to compulsory military
training. The following night he received a second medal (like the one
you can see above)—the Socialist Cross of Honor.

It is not known how many of these unique medals were produced. By 1913 the Maoriland Worker had 94 names on their anti-conscriptionist ‘Roll of Honour’ and 7,030 objectors had been prosecuted. Te Papa holds #29, awarded to E.H Mackie, and at least one more exists in a private collection.

As this and other examples show, dealing in numbers can be dangerous.
Not only is there endless room for error, we risk being guilty of what
novelist Ha Jin calls the true crime of war: reducing real human beings
to abstract numbers.[1]
Nonetheless, this post deals with the number of people who objected to
the First World War—those known as conscientious objectors and military
defaulters.

‘Conscientious’ Objection
How we define and count conscientious objectors is inherently
political. For the state, ‘bona fide’ objection was extremely narrow,
limiting it to members of religious bodies that had, before the outbreak
of war, declared military service ‘contrary to divine revelation’.
Defence Minister James Allen and the majority of his colleagues believed
socialist or anti-colonial objection, or anti-authority types who
wanted nothing to do with the state, were not genuine.

More recently, conscientious objection has been limited to men called
up for military service but who explicitly rejected it before an appeal
board. Yet refusing to appear before a board or evading the military
was still a conscious—if less visible—act. Whether we call these men
‘conscientious’ objectors or simply objectors doesn’t change the reality
of their stance. It also misses those not eligible for military
service.

Prophet Rua Kenana was arrested for sedition. Should he be counted as an objector? P12 Box 37/50, Archives NZ

Only 273?
The starting point for most counts is a list compiled in March 1919.[2]
Initiated by Defence Minister James Allen, it was produced by the
Religious Advisory Board, whose job was to establish which objectors
still in prison were considered genuine and who were not.

The Board considered 273 men—socialists, Māori, members of religious sects—and
recommended that 113 religious objectors be left off the military
defaulters list due to be published that year. The remaining 160 were
among the 2,045 defaulters gazetted in May 1919, all of whom lost their
civil rights until 1927. 41 names were added later.[3]

However the March 1919 list leaves out a large number of objectors
not considered by the Board. Apart from a few exceptions, it does not
include:

objectors released from prison before March 1919:
comparisons of Army Department returns for 1917-1918 found that at least
28 objectors previously in prison were not on the March 1919 list.[4]

objectors at Weraroa State Farm, Levin: between 21-28 objectors were interned on 7 January 1918, and a further 32 were due to be sent but never were.[5]

those who underwent punishment at Wanganui Detention Barracks:
between 8 April 1918 and 31 October 1918, when the camp was shut down
due to the mistreatment of prisoners, 188 men had been processed at
Wanganui.[6] Some, like Irish objector Thomas Moynihan, were eventually coerced into joining the Medical Corps after suffering extreme physical abuse.

Māori military defaulters: while the 273 includes at least
13 Māori, 89 others were arrested as defaulters. A further 139 were
never found and arrest warrants for 100 of these went unexecuted.[7]

those convicted for disloyal or seditious remarks: under the War Regulations 287 people were charged, 208 convicted and 71 imprisoned for disloyal or seditious remarks. Only one or two of these are in the Advisory Board report.[8]

This suggests that at least 670 objectors were imprisoned within New Zealand.

the objectors transported overseas: in July 1917, 14 objectors (including Archibald Baxter and Mark Briggs) were forcibly transported out of the country and subjected to severe punishment.[9]
A further 145 objectors were transported or due to be transported
between December 1917 and August 1918; 74 of these were transported.[10]

those who served in a non-combatant role: at least 20 objectors were performing non-combatant roles by 31 July 1917.[11]
Between September 1917 and January 1919 a further 176 objectors were
transferred to the Medical Corps at Awanui—161 from Trentham and 15 from
Featherston.[12] Many ended up on hospital ships or the Western Front.

those who deserted from training camps: historian Paul Baker notes that 430 men deserted between 1917-1918 and 321 remained at large in September 1918.[13] One military publication puts the total number of deserters at 575.[14]

objectors exempted from military service: at least 73
religious objectors were granted exemption; some of these ended up at
Weraroa Farm or in other non-combatant service.

Historian Paul Baker notes, in his 1988 book about New Zealanders,
conscription and the Great War, that 1,097 defaulters were convicted by
1918 and that 538 were arrested.[15]
It is hard to know how many of these are included in the numbers above.
But a more accurate number of those who were convicted or came under
state control for wartime objection is somewhere between 1,500, and
2,000 people, with an upper figure of 3,000.

Evading the State
Then there are those who managed to evade the state completely.
Arrest warrants for a further 1133 defaulters were still outstanding at
war’s end, and there were many who never registered with the state in
the first place.[16] Government statistician Malcolm Fraser estimated that 3,000 to 5,000 men never registered and couldn’t be conscripted.[17]

Stereograph
of a camp site in bush area, with unidentified man standing next to
camp fire, West Coast region. Photographed by Edgar Richard Williams.
Ref: 1/2-144082-F. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington.

Some of these objectors kept a low profile, hiding in bush camps
or working on rural back blocks. Others simply left the country. On 11
November 1915, 58 men of military age departed for San Francisco amidst
angry crowds.[18] As border control tightened objectors were smuggled out in ship’s coalbunkers by sympathetic seamen—an underground railway of working-class conscripts leaving for less hostile shores.[19]
Up to six men might be smuggled out per voyage and even if only a few
ships were involved, over several years hundreds may have evaded the
state in this way.[20]

According to Baker, the number of men who deliberately evaded service and who were never found was between 3,700 and 6,400.[21] This doesn’t include objectors classified unfit for service like Bob Heffron—later Premier of New South Wales—who allegedly smoked 12 packs of cigarettes prior to his medical (he was later smuggled to Australia in a ship coal bunker).

Using government archives and contemporary publications, this pamphlet unearths the story of some of the men and women in Aotearoa New Zealand who opposed the state, militarism, and a world at war.

Anarchists, ‘Wobblies’ (members of the Industrial Workers of the World) and their supporters did not stand against militarism because they were pacifists, but as members of the working class who refused to fight working class people from other countries. For them the world was their country; their enemy was capitalism. Their fight for a free society led to an intense cultural struggle—one that questioned the war, the nature of work and authority itself. This battle for minds had material results. Intense state surveillance and a raft of legislation not only deter- mined who could read what, but led to jail time or deportation from the country. In a time of smothering oppression and social pressures, they held on to their beliefs with courage, ingenuity and resolve.

Wednesday, May 18, 2016

Voices Against War (http://www.voicesagainstwar.nz/) is a recently-launched website dedicated to sharing the voice of anti-militarism and conscientious objection in wartime Canterbury. Featuring a wide array of stories and supported by photographs, ephemera and more, the website is a bold and much-needed counter to the carnival of commemoration that is WW100.

What I like about the website is its inclusion of women and pre-war anti-militarism. In most accounts, conscientious objection seems to fall out of the sky after the Military Service Act was passed in August 1916. Yet as the website (and my own work) shows, 1916-1918 objection was the continuation of resistance that had been temporarily submerged by the initial fervor of war. By including women, the website also widens the picture of wartime dissent—more often than not portrayed as the domain of those men eligible for military service only.

From the site:

When the New Zealand Government announced it was joining Britain in the war against Germany in August 1914, most New Zealanders greeted the news with wild enthusiasm. Volunteers flocked to enlist. It took real courage to go against this feverish tide of opinion but a few brave voices spoke out for peace.

Hundreds of young men chose to go to prison as objectors to conscription rather than compromise their beliefs, both in the pre-war period when compulsory military training was introduced and during the war.

On this website we highlight the stories of some of those courageous individuals who became political prisoners during this tumultuous period. Some served time in the old Lyttelton Gaol, some in the new prison at Paparua and others endured military detention in Fort Jervois on Ripapa Island.

Public sentiment was against the objectors. Usually referred to as ‘shirkers’, they suffered vilification at the hands of the press, discrimination in their workplaces, and in some cases the loss of civil rights for up to ten years. By also telling the story of the anti-militarist movement that began in Christchurch in 1910 we are marking the origins of the Pakeha peace movement in Aotearoa New Zealand. The labour movement was almost wholly anti-militarist and we also tell the story of those men jailed for breaching the government regulations that said it was sedition to speak out against conscription or war.

Women were not directly involved in compulsory military training or conscription, but some were involved in the anti-militarist organisations. They supported the men who were taking a stand, while also taking a courageous stand themselves to uphold what they saw as the British tradition of freedom of conscience. Maori were initially exempted from conscription. Later the Act was amended to include Maori though conscription was imposed only on Tainui Māori.

In telling these stories, many of which have not been told before, we are not seeking to dishonour or detract from the bravery and commitment to duty displayed by the thousands of men who served in the New Zealand expeditionary force. But these stories of Canterbury’s forgotten history have a place too and are an important part of Aotearoa New Zealand’s response to the First World War.

Monday, February 29, 2016

Our whānau has just returned from a four-day camp for those who unschool or practice natural/child-led learning. Held at Foxton Beach Boys Brigade, it was a great space and an amazingly inspiring time. Best of all, it confirmed for me that exploring the possibility of unschooling could be the right choice for our children (or should I say, they have made the right choice themselves!)

We've been investigating/doing unschooling with our six year-old for a year now, but really the last year has been a continuation of our parenting style/philosophy and the holistic approach that we learned through Playcentre. In a wiki nutshell unschooling is:

an educational method and philosophy that advocates learner-chosen
activities as a primary means for learning. Unschooling students learn through their natural life experiences including play, household responsibilities, personal interests and curiosity, internships and work experience, travel, books, elective classes, family, mentors, and social interaction. Unschooling encourages exploration of activities initiated by the children themselves, believing that the more personal learning is, the more meaningful, well-understood and therefore useful it is to the child

Like the idea of anarchism, this does not mean no rules, structure or organisation—far from it! We've actively developed an educational practice to suit our eldest child that we constantly document and review. But it does mean not going to school, which for many is a radical concept. (I'm also aware that for many people, having one adult not engaged in waged labour is either impossible or too much of a struggle. We as a family may have little money on a single income, but we are privileged enough to be able to make it happen).

But as the camp demonstrated to me, the kids and adults were loving the unschooling approach. 'Free' is the word that springs to mind—not in the hippy-happy-joy-joy sense, but in terms of autonomy, independence, self-determined.

Around 200 people from across Te Ika-a-Māui/the North Island came and went over the course of the camp, which included co-operative dinners, the odd activity, and lots of play—in the bush, in the sand, at night, in the hall, at the chess table, in the tents, cabins and grass. Lots of noise and lots of fun! And it meant some well-needed downtime for parents.

A market and child-led concert showed that unschooled kids are social, confident and talented (this is obviously something I needed assurance on, as the question I inevitably get asked is how social unschooled children are). Poetry, performance, guitar, dance, jokes — it really was inspiring to see children free to be themselves; to create, to sing and to collaborate.

I was amazed at the huge amount of respect the children had for each other, and the respect adults had for children as people. From teens to toddlers, their interactions were based in a way of being grounded in reciprocity and respect.

Linked to this was the fact that the camp was a co-creation space, which meant that it was organised and run collectively (while allowing space for those who couldn't or didn't want to participate). As the website notes, 'this
encourages trust, openness, flexibility, ease and self-responsibility.' Which is apt, considering what I'm reading at the moment:

Commoning is primary to human life. Scholars used to write of “primitive communism.” “The primary commons” renders the experience more clearly. Scarcely a society has existed on the face of the earth which has not had at its heart the commons; the commodity with its individualism and privatization was strictly confined to the margins of the community where severe regulations punished violators...

Capital derides commoning by ideological uses of philosophy, logic, and economics which say the commons is impossible or tragic. The figures of speech in these arguments depend on fantasies of destruction—the desert, the life-boat, the prison. They always assume as axiomatic that concept expressive of capital’s bid for eternity, the ahistorical “Human Nature.”

Of course it's far-fetched to claim that this camp was perfectly pre-figuring some kind of post-capitalist society. It was not without its faults and complexities (I would have liked a little more acknowledgment of the tangata whenua of that place, and/or pōwhiri). But as a first-time attendee with much to learn, I've come away feeling inspired, and with a connection to others who have similar values and approaches to education. Bring on the autumn camp!

Many thanks to the behind-the-scenes organisers, the parents who made us feel welcome, and of course, the kids.

Thursday, February 11, 2016

The Report of Matiki Mai Aotearoa: Independent Working Group on Constitutional Transformation has just been released. Convened by Moana Jackson and chaired by Margaret Mutu, extensive consultation across the country was undertaken between 2012-2015 and included 252 hui, written submissions, organised focus groups and one-to-one interviews.

The Terms of Reference sought advice on types of constitutionalism that is based upon He Whakaputanga and Te Tiriti.

“To develop and implement a model for an inclusive Constitution for Aotearoa based on tikanga and kawa, He Whakaputanga o te Rangatiratanga o Niu Tireni of 1835, Te Tiriti o Waitangi of 1840, and other indigenous human rights instruments which enjoy a wide degree of international recognition”. The Terms of Reference did not ask the Working Group to consider such questions as “How might the Treaty fit within the current Westminster constitutional system” but rather required it to seek advice on a different type of constitutionalism that is based upon He Whakaputanga and Te Tiriti. For that reason this Report uses the term “constitutional transformation” rather than “constitutional change.”

It really is an amazing document, both for its simple language and what it could mean for future indigenous-settler/Māori-Pākehā relations.

Monday, February 1, 2016

Sewing Freedom: Philip Josephs, Transnationalism & Early New Zealand Anarchism is the first
in-depth study of anarchism in New Zealand during the turbulent years of
the early 20th century—a time of wildcat strikes, industrial warfare
and a radical working class counter-culture. Interweaving biography,
cultural history and an array of archival sources, this engaging account
unravels the anarchist-cum-bomber stereotype by piecing together the
life of Philip Josephs—a Latvian-born Jewish tailor, anti-militarist and
founder of the Wellington Freedom Group. Anarchists like Josephs not
only existed in the ‘Workingman’s Paradise’ that was New Zealand, but
were a lively part of its labour movement and the class struggle that
swept through the country, imparting uncredited influence and ideas. Sewing Freedom
places this neglected movement within the global anarchist upsurge, and
unearths the colourful activities of New Zealand’s most radical
advocates for social and economic change.

Endorsments

“Filling a much-needed gap, Sewing Freedom deserves a treasured place within the pantheon of serious studies of the origins of the far left in New Zealand.” - David Grant, New Zealand Books Quarterly Review

“Jared Davidson has produced much more than a soundly researched and
very engaging biography of ‘the most prominent anarchist in New
Zealand’. This is an excellent, wide-ranging contribution to our
knowledge of the international (and indeed transnational) anarchist
movement, and sweeps us along in a fascinating story that takes us from
the pogroms in Russian Latvia, to the working-class slums of Victorian
Glasgow, to the early struggles of the nascent labour movement in New
Zealand.” - Dr David Berry, author of The History of the French Anarchist Movement

“This is a fine book that sheds another clear beam of light on the
complex puzzle that is anarchist history. Meticulously researched,
sometimes following barely perceivable trails, thoughtful and incisive,
it presents us with an, as yet, uncharted anarchist history in a
controlled and engaging way. Like all good history it leaves us with
much to think about; and like all good anarchist history it encourages
us to consider how we read, interrogate, and assess the long and,
sometimes, confusing journey towards anarchy.” -Barry Pateman, Kate Sharpley Library archivist & Associate Editor of The Emma Goldman Papers

“Many millions of words have been written on New Zealand history. The
labour movement does not feature prominently in this vast corpus; in
fact, quite the contrary. And within this relatively sparse coverage,
anarchism is almost invariably assigned at best a passing mention. We
must be grateful for Davidson’s determination to restore an anarchist
voice to the history of the outermost reach of the British Empire. In
piecing together the life and beliefs of Philip Josephs, often from the
most fragmentary of surviving evidence, Davidson helps us situate
anarchist beliefs and activities within broader international socialist
currents. By focusing on a significant individual and his tireless
advocacy in several countries, he indicates how such belief systems
transcended national boundaries, not only in the restless lives of
theoreticians and practitioners, but also –and most important of all –in
their universalist message.” - Dr Richard Hill, Professor of New Zealand Studies at Victoria University of Wellington & author of Iron Hand in the Velvet Glove: The Modernisation of Policing in New Zealand 1886-1917

“Jared Davidson has written a ripping narrative, extensively and
thoroughly researched, with a flair and flavour that takes the reader
into the backrooms of the radical movements of anarchism in its early
days in New Zealand. I am delighted with this work of history which
involved my own grandfather so closely.” - Dr Caroline Josephs, artist/writer/storyteller and granddaughter of Philip Josephs, Sydney

“Sewing Freedom works on several levels. It is a meticulous
biography, a portrait of an era, a sophisticated discussion of anarchist
philosophy and activism, and an evocation of radical lives and ideas in
their context. Davidson has designed a fresh, crisp book with visual
impact, nicely enhanced by Alec Icky Dunn’s wonderful sketches of key
places in this history: working class backyards, a miner’s hall and
striking workers under attack by the forces of the state. This
beautifully-executed book tells an important story in New Zealand’s
political history.” - Chris Brickell, Associate Professor of Gender Studies at Otago University and author of Mates and Lovers